Wedding Bell Blues
by princess-of-the-worlds
Summary: Tragedy strikes Steve and Peggy's wedding.


Steve's knee is beginning to ache from being down on the ground for so long, and anxiety is boiling away in his gut as he awaits his answer.

From the moment Bucky brought the elaborately-decorated cake to the table and Steve plucked the box from the bottom of the crumb-covered dish and knelt, he has been waiting, but Peggy's clever eyes are shadowed and unreadable.

"Peg?" Steve asks softly.

Peggy pursues her red-painted lips into a frown. "I hate you, Steven Grant Rogers," she replies, words clipped by her crisp accent, and Steve's heart plummets, aching as if Peggy has stomped all over it in her signature heels.

"I'm sorry," Steve says, wobbling as he rises to his feet and begins to rub some sensation back into his numb knee. He lowers his eyes and tries to keep his crestfallen expression off his face, sure that his cheeks are flushed pink from embarrassment. "I guess I misread everything." Steve snaps the box shut and slides it into the pocket of his slacks, unconcerned about the icing-covered state of the box's soft velvet. "Let's just enjoy dinner," he suggests nonchalantly as he slides back into his seat.

Steve is suddenly grateful that he agreed to Bucky's offer of a private room for dinner in his best friend's restaurant so that no one else is around to witness his plight.

"No, no. Steve!" Peggy is reaching across the table to place a warm hand over Steve's calloused palm, face flooding with concern and anguish. "I didn't mean it that way, darling."

"What," Steve states, confused at Peggy's sudden shift of emotions.

"It's just, you ruined my proposal," she finally explains. "I was going to ask you next week, on our second anniversary."

"Instead, I asked you on your birthday," Steve muses thoughtfully.

"Yes, love." Peggy's thumb rubs the skin on Steve's inner wrist with gentle strokes. "I didn't mean it make it seem like I was rejecting you; I was simply stunned that you got around to asking me before I did."

Before he can even process it, Steve is unconsciously sliding his other hand back into his pocket and pulling the ring box back out. He slowly slides his hand out from Peggy's and teeters to his feet again, kneeling back in front of Peggy.

With two steady hands, he lifts the lid to reveal the simple silver band to Peggy. "You've already heard my proposal speech. Margaret Elizabeth Carter, will you marry me?"

Tears of joy streaming down her face, Peggy nods her assent and allows Steve to slide the band on her ring finger. Then she barrels into Steve and locks his lips in a fierce kiss.

Overwhelmed with emotion and feeling like his heart will vibrate out of his chest, Steve winds his fingers in Peggy's silky hair and wraps the other arm around her waist.

What seems to be hours later, they part for air, and Peggy rests her forehead against Steve's, leaning into each other's touch as they gasp to breathe.

There is a familiar smoky chuckle besides Steve's right ear.

"That was painful to watch," Bucky rasps into his ear. "I thought she was going to say no, punk."

Peggy, having heard Bucky's statement, laughs, and Steve removes his right arm to ram it gently backwards into Bucky's stomach.

"Ouch," he complains with humor in his voice. "That hurt, Stevie."

"Shut it, jerk," Steve orders with amusement. "Now, you only need to find someone to marry your ugly mug."

"That may be a bit of a problem," Peggy tease. "Who would marry James?"

Bucky huffs. "I'm sure whatever guy or gal decides to marry my sorry ass will be almost as good as you, Pegs."

"I don't doubt that," Steve says solemnly before stretching an arm towards Bucky and dragging him into a hug. Bucky reluctantly gives in, Peggy wrapping her arms around both of them.

Steve rests his head down in the graceful slope of Peggy's neck and breathes in the smoky scent of Bucky's favorite cologne and the light floral odor of the perfume he bought Peggy and relaxes, surrounded by his best friend and his future wife.

XX

"Here," Bucky murmurs distractedly, tongue tucked in his cheek as he adjusts Steve's bowtie with a final tug, "almost done." Finally, he steps aside and allows Steve to examine himself in the mirror.

Though it has been years since his growth spurt, Steve is still taken aback by his appearance each time he glances into a mirror. He has grown into his gangly limbs, he has grown into his deep voice, he has grown into his lopsided square jaw. With the exception of the baby blues that belonged to Sarah, Steve could be Joseph Rogers, straight out of a wedding picture from 1987, blond hair styled neatly and tuxedo clinging to his lean body.

"Ma would be proud," Steve whispers to himself.

"Sarah and Joseph would have loved to see you like this, Steven," says Winifred Barnes, stepping into the stuffy room. "They would have adored Peggy."

Steve sniffles, mind replaying the shaky meager memories he had of his mother and father alive and together. "Thanks, Winnie." Despite towering over the Barnes matriarch, he scoops the woman who became as his second mother into a tight hug.

After slipping from Steve's embrace, Winifred raises a stern eyebrow at Bucky. "Don't you have somewhere to be, James?"

Bucky smiles charmingly at his mother. "I'm going, Ma." He reaches an arm to try and ruffle Steve's hair as he used to when they were boys, but his best friend ducks, playfully shoving his arm away. "I'm going, Stevie; your bride awaits." He waggles his eyebrows at Steve but slips out of the room before his mother can swat him on the arm.

"Everything's ready, Steve," Winifred tells him. "We'll begin the proceedings as soon James arrives back with Peggy."

Steve smiles at Winifred gratefully before she leaves the room.

Today is not exactly how both Steve and Peggy had expected either of their potential weddings to be. Steve had always imagined that both his mother and father would be by his side, and Peggy had always taken for granted that her brother Michael would walk her down the aisle. Though neither of their actual families lived to see today, it is still almost perfect, an intimate affair at SHIELD Gallery, where both Steve and Peggy work and where they met. It's not traditional, because they are not a traditional couple. Bucky will walk Peggy down the aisle. Angie and Jarvis will share the role of the maid of honor. Steve's best man is both Sam and Nat.

"Steve," Clint says, poking his head in, "it's time. Barnes texted; he and Carter are ten minutes away."

XX

As he stands in the gorgeous rose garden behind SHIELD, Steve can't help but shiver. When he was younger, a teenager, and hopeless with girls, watching Bucky score date after date in high school, he never believed that this day was possible, but here it is.

He can still remember the day he met Peggy. When he first entered SHIELD as an art intern, she was already working as the assistant to the gallery's director, Nick Fury. She was the one who had encouraged him to paint on his own and submit pieces to the gallery. On the night of his first art show, she asked him out. Even while they were dating, she kept pushing him to work harder until a few months ago Steve had become the youngest art director of SHIELD in the gallery's seventy year history.

He loves her beyond belief and cannot wait to call himself her husband, but her arrival seems to be further and further away as he stands out on the gazebo where they will kiss for the first time as a married couple.

"Steve!"

Becca's voice is urgent and raw, calling loudly and gathering the attention of all the guests as she dashes from the direction of the gallery building. The hem of her lavender dress is dragging across the wet grass, but she seems preoccupied.

"Steve!" Becca lurches forward but is steadied by Steve as she arrives beside him. Her eyes are rimmed red, and there are visible tear tracks flowing through the makeup that had been flawlessly only minutes ago.

"What happened, Becca?" he asks gently, though his heart begins to beat just the tiniest bit faster.

"The hospital called," she gasps, still out of breath.

The rest of what she says goes unheard as blood rushes through Steve's head. His fingers unconsciously curl into claws in the fabric of his slacks.

The world falls from below his feet when he hears Becca's muffled statement.

"Peggy and Bucky were in an accident."

XX

As it seems, Bucky had picked Peggy up from Angie's apartment where she was alone once Angie left for the venue, and they were only minutes from SHIELD.

They were only minutes from the gallery when a truck barrelled out of nowhere and into Bucky's Tesla.

Becca's friend Claire, a nurse who worked at the hospital, had called Becca as soon as she recognized Bucky's unconscious body.

Becca fills Steve in on all this as they storm through the sterile hallway of the hospital, but they are truly unaware of the state of Steve's best friend and fiancée until they reach the nurses' station.

"Please, we're looking for two patients. They were brought in only half an hour ago," Steve begins to say to the receptionist in a tone that is harried but not unkind.

"Rebecca!" Claire, a pretty, mocha-skinned nurse, waves a single hand to Becca. "Come with me." She rushes into a hallway to the side, explaining as they follow. "Half an hour ago, a James Buchanan Barnes and a Margaret Carter were brought in after being struck by an oncoming vehicle."

"How bad is it?" Steve asks, voice quavering with fear and grief.

"Well," Claire says, "both Mr. Barnes and Ms. Carter are conscious, but the extent of their injuries are still being examined." She halts suddenly in front of a hospital room. "Wait here." She enters the room and exits a few moments later, accompanied by a large male doctor with golden hair tied back. "This is Dr. Donald Blake; he's on call for Mr. Barnes and Ms. Carter."

Dr. Blake smiles at them, expression guarded and neutral. "I'm sorry, but we can only allow family inside at this time."

"Bucky is my brother," Becca says soberly, "but Steve's his best friend. They've known each other practically since birth. You have to let him inside with me."

Dr. Blake sighs reluctantly. "It's not exactly bending rules, so, go ahead." As Becca and Steve move past him, he suddenly says, "Wait. You must know this before you see Mr. Barnes; his entire left arm and shoulder were crushed and will have to be amputated."

Steve freezes in his tracks, icy horror trickling down his spine. "What? But, that means Bucky will never be able to cook again!" He exchanges a trouble glance with Becca whose eyes are wide and bewildered. "How are we supposed to tell Bucky?"

"Mr. Barnes is already aware," Dr. Blake states.

Inside the room, Bucky lays limply on the hospital bed, his upper body elevated. "Hey, Becca," he says with no ounce of his usual charisma missing.

"Buck," she breathes with alarm before darting to grip his right hand firmly. "Are you okay?"

"Just peachy, Becks." He smiles tiredly up at Becca, but his expression morphs into one of terror briefly when he lays his eyes on Steve. "Stevie! What are you doing here? Go see Pegs!"

Steve drifts closer, moving to stand besides Becca but not allow his eyes to wander to Bucky's arm that is lifeless besides him. "Do you think you are any less important to me than Peggy, jerk?"

Becca's phone chimes, and she checks it, swallowing audibly. "Mom and Dad are here; I'm going to go get them."

Once Becca's gone, Bucky allows his expression to reveal some of the grief he must be feeling.

"How are you, Bucky, really?"

Bucky turns his head away, his whisper barely heard in the silent room. "I can't feel my arm. My left arm, Stevie. I can't feel it."

Steve knows that from the lack of emotion in Bucky's voice that his best friend is still in shock, and his heart clenches. He cannot even begin to imagine how Bucky will react when he is actually lucid.

"It'll be okay," Steve says, though it sounds false to his ears. "Are you with me?"

"Until the end of the line." After a slight pause, Bucky sighs. "Go see Peggy. I'll be fine."

XX

"The impact of the crash flung Ms. Carter several feet onto the street, and she ended up impaled on a piece of wreckage from the car. On arrival to the hospital, she was rushed into emergency surgery. She is currently stable, but her condition is rapidly derailing, and it is possible that she could slip into cardiac arrest."

XX

Peggy's pale and limp against the pillow of the hospital bed, but she is smiling and blinking tiredly up at him. "Darling!" Her voice is small and barely carries to Steve's ear. "I'm sorry I was late for the wedding."

He rushes to her side. "Peggy, don't say that!" Steve pushes a stray lock of hair off her forehead; her skin is cold beneath his touch.

"You never did get to see me wearing the wedding dress." She chuckles humorlessly. "It's beyond repair now."

"You look just as gorgeous as the day I meant you," Steve tells her earnestly.

"Don't lie to me, darling. I'm a mess."

"A gorgeous mess," Steve corrects. He leans down and seals his lips to Peggy's in a brief kiss. "I love you."

Peggy hums. "I love you, too." She reaches for his wrist and flips it over, pressing a sweet kiss to the skin on his inner wrist, before her eyes harden and turn sober. "How much time do I have left?"

"No! No, no, no." The air whooshes out of his lungs as his legs waver unsteadily. "You aren't dying." The words sound hollow to his own ears.

"I'm so tired, darling," Peggy admits, falling back against the pillow.

"No, Pegs. We're getting married."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. It's too late for the one we planned, so we'll just go to Ireland."

"That sounds wonderful."

"Just you, me, Bucky and Angie. We'll get married next to a waterfall. We'll move back to Brooklyn. Have kids…"

"How many? You said you wanted enough for your own baseball team. How much is that?"

"Okay, maybe enough for a baseball team is too much. Two or three."

"Two sets of twins. Two girls and two boys. We'll name the girls Sarah and Angela and the boys Joseph and Michael James, so that James doesn't feel left out."

"Buck would love that. But they better be like you in personality."

"Oh, yes. God forbid that there are four Steve Rogers-like children running around our home. They would be a handful."

"True."

"But, first, we'll get a dog. A golden retriever."

"What will we name him?"

"Whatever you want, darling."

"Just imagine it. Us in a brownstone in Brooklyn."

"You a famous artist…"

"You don't know that, Peggy."

"Oh, I do. You a famous artist. I could work in some hipster art gallery. James and his spouse in the home next to us."

"It sounds perfect. Promise me we'll get married first."

"I promise, darling…"

"Peggy? No, Peggy!"

"I feel so tired, darling."

" _No! Don't close your eyes, Peggy. Don't you dare!_ "

"I'm only sleeping…"

" _Open your eyes, Margaret Elizabeth Carter. Please … I love you._ _Peggy? No! No...no._ "

 _BEEEP_.


End file.
